


supernova

by ayuminb



Series: Jonsa Week [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (and being super mushy about it), (this is basically just Jon giving Sansa orgasms), Cousin Incest, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12530364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayuminb/pseuds/ayuminb
Summary: Sansa wants to see stars; Jon is happy to oblige.





	supernova

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Jonsa Week](http://jonsa-week.tumblr.com/), day 6. oct 27th - stars.

It's a slow journey – achieving this intimacy with Sansa.

 

After _everything_ , he's grateful enough that she would even allow his touches, that she _wants_ them. Jon would wait forever if that's what it would take to have her be comfortable with taking this step with him.

 

However, Sansa, above anything, is a force to be reckoned with.

 

The night before he was set to leave Winterfell, to march on to stop the Army of the Death – she'd called him to her chambers. The memory of his parentage revelation still _fresh_ in his mind, in hers certainly, even after days; Jon had gone to her because he'd rather not be alone the last night in the home that no longer _felt_ like home. He’d gone to her because he had _needed_ her reassurance, needed to know that he still had a place to come back once everything was over.

 

Yet, he'd _known_ —the very moment he walked through the threshold, to find her in sleep clothes—there wasn't ever going to be another outcome. Not to this tension that lurked under the surface. So when Sansa had dismissed her maids, had told Brienne to go rest, barring the doors – he had known, hadn't stopped her, had let her take the lead.

 

Gods but he would follow her anywhere—that rings as true now as it did then—Jon had known this from the very moment she ran into his arms in Castle Black.

 

Sansa had taken control, and he had abided. Throughout the night – as she'd clung to his hands, as she'd trembled above him, right before she started rocking her hips; through her soft gasps and breathy inquiries of what to do, of _is this alright, does it feel good, Jon, do you like it?_ She'd clung to his shoulder throughout her peak; beyond that as he'd chased _his_ , and longer still as they lay entangled on top of her furs.

 

There's nothing he would ever forget about that first night. He’ll carry the memories of it with him forever, will take them to his grave. The feel of her, the vision she’d presented, her soft gasps and moans and whimpers and _JonJonJon_.

 

And now—Gods now—bracing his weight above her writhing body, Jon does his very best to have _this_ be another first she'll remember fondly. More than just fondly; the first time she’s allowed him to hover above her. He presses the heel of his hand to the bundle of nerves that holds the focus of her pleasure, pushes two of his fingers deeper into her cunt. Her eyes remain open, halfway and darkened and heavy, but open nonetheless—she _needs_ to see, map his face, burn it into her mind—needs to know _who_ it is.

 

"Jon," she gasps, shudders, a hand flying up to grasp at the back of his neck – it grounds her.

 

Sansa pulls him into a kiss, hot and heady and messy; her back arches when he crooks his fingers inside her, hips angling further into his relentless hand – his name tumbles past her lips as broken whimpers, heated moans, fervent pleas over and over and over. And his cock twitches, grows harder still, painfully so within his breeches.

 

Jon longs for nothing else than sweet release—replace his fingers with his throbbing cock, pound into her with abandon—but not before she's found hers, though. He'll chase his release only after she's unraveled in his arms. The feel of her walls pulsing around his fingers have him in a near frenzy, his control so close to shattering – Jon hastens his movements, but can tell it's not enough.

 

"Sansa," he says, voice rough and strained, "Sansa, what do you need? What do you want?"

 

"I want—I," she pulls him closer, into a _sweeter_ , gentler kiss, "Jon."

 

There's not much coherence to her demands—there’s not _much_ to her demands—until she nibbles on his lower lip, then pushes on his shoulder to make him go _down_.

 

His cock makes another painful twitch.

 

He obliges. Jon makes the slow journey to the place where he'd willingly lose himself; stops briefly at her chest to lavish her tits with all the deserving attention – kissing and licking and sucking at her rosy tips. He would spend his sweet time worshipping those tits but his Lady is impatient tonight.

 

Still he waits for her verbal compliance. "What do you want, Sansa?"

 

It is a slow journey, but each step is so very rewarding.

 

She is not yet ready to take him on her back, that much is obvious, and he will never push; he would see her unravel beneath him using only his mouth and his fingers, and let her retake the control after as she pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips. He would rather see her take him astride, chase her own pleasure at her own pace. Sansa is lovely like that; she's lovely in any way.

 

"I want to see stars," she whispers, pupils blown wide and a slight tilt of her lips that hints to a challenge, "I want to see them bursting all around."

 

Jon hooks one of her legs onto his shoulder and, with a smirk thrown her way, sets his mouth to work on her, determined to show her a whole bunch of stars bursting each time she closed her eyes.


End file.
